


Of Vermin and Ghosts

by ttacticianmagician



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttacticianmagician/pseuds/ttacticianmagician
Summary: Five years ago, Dimitri celebrated his birthday with friends.Five years later, the only ones wishing him a happy birthday are ghosts.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Suffering
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Of Vermin and Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is two days late but I only got this idea late in the day on the 20th. And as always I end up writing more than I intended. Also this is not a really conventional birthday fic because it's so angsty??? Blame my sister for encouraging me to write this.

“What day is today?” Glenn asked.

Dimitri responded by carving a small mark into an old, iron helmet. The helmet had seen better days, but now it was banged up, dirty, and covered in scratches both accidental and deliberate. He turned the helmet in his hands, reading the letters and tally marks that marred its surface. 

“Today is the 20th day of the Ethereal Moon.”

“Yes, but do you know what else is today?”

He turned his one-eyed gaze to the man standing in front of him. Like the helmet, Glenn was not in the best of conditions. Ash sullied his armor, blood dripped from numerous wounds, and his crossed arms and fuming expression indicated that he was impatiently waiting for a certain answer.

An answer he could not give. It didn’t surprise him that his mind was drawing a blank. Glenn and the others could be so cryptic sometimes, and years of vagrancy had taken a toll on his health. Along with this supposed answer, Dimitri couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent meal or sleep.

Not that it was a good enough excuse for Glenn. “I don’t know.” He stated plainly.

“Tch.” That sound of disgust was ingrained into Dimitri’s mind, not because of Glenn but because of Glenn’s brother. “It’s your birthday, your Highness. Happy birthday.”

Dimitri’s eye widened in shock. If he wasn’t mistaken, this was the first time Glenn said something nice in the many years since his passing. His jaw hung slack in awe, then he recomposed himself to reply adequately.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” Glenn glared at him. “You don’t get to celebrate now. You have yet to avenge us. Today just marks another year of failure.”

He knew that Glenn’s well wishes weren’t sincere, but his rebuke still stung. Dimitri hung his head low, unable to come up with any words that would soothe him. 

Another tch. Glenn’s amber eyes sized up the desolate man before him. “How old are you, your Highness?”

Dimitri turned his attention back to the helmet. This wasn’t his first record of the days that have gone by. He had gone through several other helmets and pieces of armor already. Sometimes they were destroyed in a fight, other times he had simply misplaced them. He never managed to fill up a surface with tally marks before losing them one way or another. This helmet, with the numbers ‘1185’ gouged into its crown, survived the longest out of all his ‘calendars’.

“I am… 23 years old today.”

“You’re older than me when I died.” Glenn hissed. “Tell me. Is it fair that I died so young, while you got to live?”

“No...”

“And what have you done with those years you stole from me? Nothing! Nothing at all!”

Glenn kicked the helmet out of Dimitri’s hands. It struck the wall, clanging loudly like a bell upon impact. Now, thanks to the big dent, it was no good for record-keeping anymore. “If I were still alive, she would be dead by now, and the war would be over! So many lives would be spared! Why does a useless fool like you continue to flounder about? Why?!”

Dimitri clutched his head. The throbbing pain that kept him awake all night was worsened by the racket. “I am sorry! I intend to keep my promise to you, to all of you. I will have her head soon.”

“I told you, I don’t want your sorrys!” Glenn shouted. “I want the blood of the witch who did this to us! So stop moping and get up already, birthday boy!”

Nothing else Dimitri could say could appease him. He dragged himself out of his stupor, exchanging his ‘calendar’ for a lance. At least his weapon wasn’t in as bad of shape as the helmet, since he swiped it off a soldier’s corpse the day before. Still, he would need to get a new one soon. His Crest made sure that any weapon he held didn’t last as long as they should.

Powdery snow crunched underfoot as he trudged his way through the ruins of Garreg Mach. The sun’s rays, which barely peeked over the horizon, painted the stone walls and frozen earth in a orange-pink hue. The scenery was pretty, in a forlorn way, but Dimitri currently didn’t have the mindset to appreciate it. He had a job to do. There were rats nesting in the crumbling monastery and he needed to clear them all out in four days.

“Four days? What is in four days?” Patricia inquired in a cloyingly sweet voice.

“... The class reunion.” He murmured. He hesitated before responding, because he knew that his stepmother wouldn’t like his answer.

“Oh. That.” Her voice abruptly shifted into a more malicious tone. “Your stupid, sentimental reason to take a detour to this ghastly place. What makes you think that anyone is going to show up? Who would want to see a fallen prince, whose hands are stained with the blood of his subjects?”

“Please, stepmother. Not so loud. You’ll scare the rats off.”

“Who cares about the rats? You should be hunting bigger prey instead. Like El.”

Upon hearing her pet name, Dimitri tightened his grip on his lance. His reaction didn’t break anything this time, but he heard the wood creaking from the pressure.

“She is next, stepmother. But surely you cannot let vermin run about unhindered. You always said to clean up messes whenever you see them.”

“Did I really say that?” Patricia tapped a finger against her chin. “How could you remember that, but not your own birthday?”

Dimitri stopped in his tracks. His wandering led him to what remained of the Blue Lions' homeroom The great doors were flung open during the Adrestian Empire’s attack on Garreg Mach, allowing nature to wreak havoc on its insides. Rain and snow warped the wooden furniture into grotesque and broken shapes. Animals tore apart books for nesting material. Green pinpricks of grass poked through cracks in the floor, threatening to bloom into something bigger. 

It wasn’t always like this. Five years ago, he sat at one of these desks, alongside his friends.

_ “Your Highness, are you certain that this is correct?” _

_ Ingrid scrutinized the papers in front of Dimitri. He had outlined a strategy for a hypothetical battle in a hypothetical city’s streets. While Ingrid opted to use the narrow alleys as chokepoints, Dimitri sketched out a plan that would lure opponents into an open plaza. His plan required a lot more steps and had to account for several more variable factors. With how much her eyes squinted, she must be trying to figure out how Dimitri ended up with such a complicated idea. _

_ “There’s no right or wrong answer in a battle, Ingrid. At least, not like how an exam has a right or wrong answer.” _

_ “I know that. But why in the goddess’s name did you go through so much trouble for this?” _

_ Her pointer finger circled where the bulk of the enemy’s troops would wind up. That spot was in range of most of Dimitri’s soldiers, several of whom had archer battalions. His plan called for the use of ranged gambits, which would stun a majority of the opponents and allow his remaining troops to eliminate the rest. It was a clean piece of work, really, but the problem was getting to that stage just as cleanly. _

_ “These battalions use flaming arrows. If I were to use them in the alleyways, the buildings would catch fire. Out here in the open, there’s a much lower risk of collateral damage.” _

_ “I see.” Ingrid nodded thoughtfully. “But why not use other gambits instead?” _

_ “Other gambits require actual confrontation. If close-quarters combat were to take place in these streets,” Dimitri pointed towards where Ingrid plotted her attack, “Then it would be nigh impossible to avoid any sort of destruction. Especially since there are powerful mages among the enemy’s ranks.” _

_ “True.” She directed her gaze towards the papers again. “I suppose the correct answer is the answer that accomplishes our goal with the least amount of civilian casualties, no matter how much effort it takes.” _

_ “Sheesh, Ingrid.” Sylvain piped up in the back. “You could at least admit that you’re wrong and he’s right on his birthday.” _

_ “That’s not a reason to-” _

_ “Oh! Of course! I’m sorry, your Highness.” Ingrid bowed to Dimitri. “I didn't mean to offend you on your special day.” _

_ “No offense taken. Really.” Dimitri felt a blush creeping up on his face. “Don’t let the date stop any criticism you may have. Besides, your idea does have some merit. It just needs to be refined.” _

_ Ingrid still refused to let up her apologies. “It’s not just a date! Today is an especially important birthday too! You’re turning 18, right?” _

_ “Yes, but-” _

_ “Which means you are of age to take the crown. You could be king if you weren’t stuck here in school!” _

_ “That is true, I suppose.” A part of what Ingrid said did resonate with him. If he became king right now, he could take steps towards fixing the dire problems of the Kingdom immediately. “But I am also enjoying myself at Garreg Mach. After all, when will be the next time we can interact freely with each other like this, as friends?” _

_ “Your Highness…” Ingrid’s eyes gained a wistful sort of quality.  _

_ “Hey, if you’re worried about that, then why are we still here? You don’t have to spend your birthday studying.” Sylvain edged closer to the two of them. “How about we call it quits on this assignment and have fun elsewhere?” _

_ “... You guys are going to throw a surprise party for me, aren’t you?” Dimitri let out a soft laugh. It was hard to be taken off guard by surprise parties now, when he helped plan a lot of them for the other Blue Lions.  _

_ “Well, now I guess it’s just a normal party.” Ingrid shrugged. _

_ “And we’re not ready yet, anyway.” Sylvain mentioned. “What I was suggesting was a break in the training grounds. I believe Felix is waiting for you there.” _

_ “Felix?” Dimitri blurted out. Now that was a surprise. It used to be that Felix got just as excited for Dimitri’s birthday as he did, partly because the royal family went all out for celebrations. However, he hadn’t even acknowledged Dimtri’s birthday since that fateful day. For him to do so now... _

_ “Yeah. Felix. I know it’s a shocker, but he said that he wanted to give you something that he can’t give you later.” _

_ “Probably a knuckle sandwich.” Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Don’t let him give that to you so easily. In fact, maybe  _ he _ needs a knuckle sandwich. I can’t believe he would act like this on your birthday!” _

_ “It’s alright, Ingrid. I’m looking forward to whatever he has prepared. And, of course, I’ll give him the fight of his life while doing so.” Dimitri smiled as he started putting his assignment away. To be honest, his eyes were starting to glaze over from all the lines and numbers. A spar in the training grounds may just be the thing he needed, even if it was with Felix.  _

"So you do remember your birthday." Patricia drawled. "I wonder what kept you from recalling it earlier… Perhaps you don't want to think about what happened to your friends?"

"Stepmother, please." Dimitri knew what she was going to say next, and he couldn't bear to think about it.

"Poor Sylvain and Ingrid. You haven't heard from them since your escape from Fhirdiad. Would it be better if they’re dead because of your inability to kill El, or if they're avoiding the monster you have become?"

"Enough!" Dimitri cried out. His desperate plea echoed throughout the ruins. Patricia fell silent, but his shouts didn't wipe the knowing smirk off her face. He grabbed the remains of a desk and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a cloud of dust and woodchips. Then he grabbed the leg of a chair and crushed it with one hand. Erasing evidence of the past felt good, but it made him feel even better when he imagined the splintering wood as Edelgard's windpipe. He destroyed several other pieces of furniture in a similar manner until nothing was left except mangled debris.

"My my. What a tempestuous child I raised." Patricia's smirk only grew bigger from his rampage. "Although, weren't you just warning me to not speak so loudly and scare off the rats?"

Dimitri didn't oblige her with a response. He stormed out the classroom, fire still pulsing in his veins. If those rats were scared off by his fit of rage, then he just had to track them down. For as long as he drew breath, he would let none of them escape. He owed it those who once called Garreg Mach their home.

_ As soon as he stepped into the training grounds, Felix approached him with an unreadable expression. _

_ "Take this." He handed Dimitri a sheathed sword before the latter could react.  _

_ Dimitri stared at it in confusion. The sheath in his hands was adorned with an ornate blue and gold pattern. It was far fancier than any sheath most students and even most knights carried. He pulled the pummel out of its casing and was greeted with a wondrous sight. The sword gleamed silver in the midday sunlight, its edge sparkling brighter due to how sharp it was. Along the spine of the blade, a familiar signature was engraved, one that any warrior worth their weight would recognize. _

_ "This is-" Dimitri's response was stuck in his throat. This Sword of Zoltan belonged to Felix. Why was he letting him have it? The last time Felix showed it to him, he adamantly refused to let Dimitri even touch it. Surely it wasn't because of his birthday, was it? _

_ "It's not yours. Yet. Defeat me in a duel without breaking it and I may consider giving it to you." Felix gripped the handle of his own sword. _

_ “Hold on. You want me to spar with this?” Dimitri asked. It wasn’t the norm for students to fight against each other with non-training weapons. Although everyone was trained to the best of their abilities, accidental injuries could and would happen, and Dimitri was more prone to inflict injuries than others. _

_ “Yes. I had the edges to your sword and mine magically dulled just for this fight, so you don’t have to worry when you go all out.” A pause. “Not like you ever worry about that, boar.” _

_ Dimitri ignored his snide remark. Felix always said stuff like that, and it took more effort to correct him than to ignore him. He gave the Sword of Zoltan a few test swings before readying his stance. It really was a magnificent blade. Its handle felt right in his hands, its balance matched his fighting style perfectly, and it hummed a beautiful song when it sliced through the air.  _

_ “One more question.” Dimitri said. “Why are you doing this?” _

_ “Isn’t it obvious?” Felix tch’d. _

_ “You’re doing this because it’s my birthday today?” _

_ “No, you stupid boar.” Felix recoiled as if he was disgusted by that notion. “I got a new sword and I want to test it against my old one.” _

_ Even though he claimed otherwise, Dimitri suspected that it wasn’t the complete truth. But he pushed his doubts aside for a more pressing question. “What new sword did you obtain?” _

_ Felix responded by drawing the aforementioned sword out of its sheath. This elegant sword was much thinner than his own, and the differences did not stop there. Its metal shone with a scarlet hue and its blade had a slight curve. A matching red tassel tied to its handle fluttered with his movement. Its overall appearance was distinctly foreign. Although Dimitri never personally handled such weapons, it reminded him of the blades found in Dagda.  _

_ Felix didn’t let him examine his sword any longer. He lunged at Dimitri with astounding speed. The sword’s lighter weight did wonders for his agility, since he descended upon on him faster than he would have with a normal sword. Dimitri was unable to dodge and was forced to block his blow with his own weapon. Even though Felix’s sword was incredibly thin, it stood firm against the heavier Sword of Zoltan. Before Dimitri could push him away, Felix backed off and charged again. _

_ Dimitri was skilled with a sword, but not as skilled as Felix. He was more adept at using a lance and sorely missed its range during this match. He had no way of warding off Felix’s persistent attacks besides parrying, as his own footwork was too slow to dodge. If this kept up, then he would be defeated in no time. His only hope was to take a hit, then retaliate.  _

_ The opportunity presented itself when Felix overextended and swung the tip of his sword at his shoulder. Like he promised, the metal did not draw blood, but it did tear through his shirt. Dimitri endured the strike, then jabbed his sword forward. His attack was much more successful, plunging into Felix’s heart and through the other side of his frail body. Felix gurgled, all wind forced out of his lungs. His bloodied hands clambered around the sword that was supposed to be his gift. But try as he might, he could not dislodge it. _

Dimitri blinked. The man before him was not Felix, but an unfortunate soul he caught in the former training grounds. He pulled his lance back, letting the skewered body fall to the ground with a soft thump. Then he stabbed him again for good measure.

That rat wasn’t the only living soul he found here. Dimitri stepped over two or three more bodies to reach the only survivor. He left this one alive for a reason.

“P-please! Have mercy!” The remaining man looked to be about the same age as Dimitri when he attended the Officer’s Academy. But that wasn’t why Dimitri spared him. He drove his lance into the wall right next to the man’s head. The man’s high pitched squeal was an affront to his ears.

“Answer me this.” Dimitri growled. “Where are the rest of your kin.”

“You mean the other bandits? I’m not like those guys, I swear! I’m only with them because my family-”

Dimitri punched the wall on the other side of his head, creating a crater that was bigger than the one his lance made. The man squeaked again, his eyes wide with fear.

“Alright! Alright! They should be in the dining hall right now! Except, I don’t think they’ll be there much longer! There’s nothing left in this place but junk so they may be moving on-”

“You talk too much.”

Dimitri yanked his lance out of the wall and sliced at the man’s throat. The decapitated body slid downwards onto its knees, leaving behind a red streak on the wall. Now the training grounds were quiet again, just the way he liked it.

Unfortunately, the newfound silence wouldn’t last long. As Dimitri turned around, he spotted the stoic figure of his father standing behind him. King Lambert sported a bloody scar across his neck similar to the one Dimitri just gave to his victim, but his grievous wound didn’t prevent him from speaking.

“He did not put up much of a fight.” Even in death, his father’s voice instilled a sort of fear in Dimitri. “Unlike Felix.”

Dimitri grunted. Eradicating these rats was a simple task when they ran amok like cowards. He didn’t even have to use his full strength against them. Lambert continued to lambast him as Dimitri scavenged their corpses for anything useful.

“I did not lay down my life for you to lose against that boy. You don’t even deserve the sword he gave you out of pity.”

“It was not out of pity.” Dimitri pilfered a small sack of dried meat off a body. “He had no need for the Sword of Zoltan if his Wo Dao was able to beat it.”

“That’s what he said, but that’s not what he meant. He took pity on you, because you were weak and because it was your birthday. Isn’t that right, Glenn?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Glenn stepped out of the shadows to reaffirm what his liege said. 

“How shameful.”

Dimitri felt their stares burning through the back of his head. He was at a loss for words, so he just kept on rummaging through the bandits’ possessions.

“My son, you would have won against Felix if you did not hold back. He had that spell placed on those swords for a reason. And then you went ahead and disappointed him. Besides, it wouldn’t bother you if you did kill Felix by accident. Look at how easily you stabbed that bandit’s heart when you thought he was Felix. You didn’t even flinch.”

Dimitri’s fingers froze around a waterskin. His father was right. His memories were distorted by his bloodlust, and he didn’t even notice until the man gasped his last breath. 

“That child was quite annoying, wasn’t he? Boar this, beast that. I bet it felt good to make him regret those words by impaling him.”

“No…” Dimitri shook his head. “Felix is my friend.”

“Hah! How can you call him that when you haven’t even been a good friend to him?” Lambert’s laugh sent a chill up his spine. “You let him down, my son. You couldn’t save his brother, his friends, his school, his kingdom. His professor.”

“Do not mention her!” Dimitri roared. He suddenly stood up, dropping the waterskin onto the ground. The few remaining gulps of water poured out and intermingled with pools of blood.

“How dare you yell at your father!” Lambert roared back. “You should channel that anger towards something useful! Embrace the titles that Felix bequeathed unto you! March into Enbarr and claim that woman’s head instead of haunting these ruins like a miserable excuse of a beast!”

“I will, father! I will!” Dimitri slammed the end of his lance into the frozen earth. A loud crack emanated from the much abused weapon. He glanced down at it to find that it had broken into three pieces. With a frustrated grunt, he dropped the useless bits and hurried to find another weapon. One of these bandits must have something usable.

Lambert stood over one of the corpses with a worn out iron sword in hand. He presented it to him without flourish. Dimitri grasped its handle and swung its blade around several times. It was no Sword of Zoltan, but it would do.

“Happy birthday, son.” His father said. Dimitri, remembering the trap that Glenn had laid out, didn’t respond. His silence elicited a scoff from Lambert.

“No gratitude? You may be a boar prince, but I did not raise you to be boorish.”

“Thank you, father.” He said hurriedly just so Lambert would get off his back. Satisfied with his response, the ghost of his father faded from view.

Dimitri rushed out of the training grounds, intent on starting his journey to Enbarr right now. There was no reason to tarry in Garreg Mach anymore. If he stayed any longer, he would have to deal with more unwanted memories. But as he passed by the dining hall, the sound of activity reached his ears. That’s right. The rat he interrogated said that the rest of his kind were nesting up there. They were also going to leave soon, if he remembered correctly.

Surely his father would forgive him for dealing with them first. He trudged along the cobblestone path, sword in hand, and kicked the doors to the dining hall wide open.

All eyes were immediately drawn to the imposing figure that barged inside. There were only a handful of bandits gathered around a bonfire that burned in the middle of the room. Not as many as he would like, but they needed to be disposed of all the same. One of the thieves stood up and drew his sword. Wrapped around his shoulders was a piece of cloth, dyed a striking blue hue that he recognized. Its brilliant color filled his vision, his ears, until he couldn’t hear what that bandit was shouting or see the rest of them brandish their weapons. 

_ “Wow, Mercedes. This is really impressive!” _

_ Dimitri held up a blanket that Mercedes had gifted him. It was a large, fluffy, stretch of fabric that was the same color as his uniform’s cape. Embroidered on it was the symbol of Blaiddyd royal family, a knight mounted on a gryphon that stood over the Crest of Blaiddyd. He couldn’t help himself and swaddled the blanket around his body. It was a lot warmer than he suspected, leading him to wonder what it was made out of. He would have kept the blanket on him like a second cloak, but a deriding look from Felix made him take it off. _

_ “I’m so glad you like it!” Mercedes grinned. “I was worried about what to give to a prince who could get anything he wanted.” _

_ “You needn’t worry about that. A gift from friends is something I’ll always treasure.” _

_ He meant every word of what he said. Earlier in the party, Dimitri received riding boots from Ingrid, the Sword of Zoltan from Felix, and a chess set from Sylvain. The birthday feast was prepared by Ashe and Dedue, although the latter stated that he still had something to give him. Dimitri adored each and every present, despite the fact that what Mercedes said was true. He could buy most of these items whenever he wanted to. But now each of these items held a deeper meaning for him, and that sentiment couldn’t be bought for all the money in the world. _

_ “Ooh! You have to open my present after Mercie’s!” Annette practically shoved a small, wrapped parcel into his arms. The package was light, giving him reason to worry when he carefully tore apart its paper covering. Thankfully, he managed to unwrap the wooden carving of the Blue Lion insignia without breaking it. When he lifted the carving up, beads, stones, and feathers on leather strings that were tied to its bottom chimed in a pleasant way. _

_ “Oh! Annette, I didn’t know you could carve wood so well!” Dimitri had a small smile on his lips. He could mistaken Annette’s gift for the flags that hung outside their homeroom if it was made of cloth instead of wood. _

_ “Thanks, but I didn’t carve it. My father did, actually.” _

_ “Gilbert? How did you convince him to make something like this?” Dimitri was under the impression that the old knight wanted nothing to do with his past life. _

_ “I didn’t say it was for your birthday.” Annette said sheepishly. “I had to basically treat him like a stranger and pay him for this, since he wouldn’t do any free favors for me. But the rest of the decorations are my doing! And I placed a spell on it! Just hang it over your bed and it’ll ward off all your nightmares!” _

_ “Nightmares…?” Dimitri repeated. His eyes wandered from Annette’s charm to Mercedes’s blanket. He had a feeling that they were hinting at something. _

_ “Yeah! Dedue mentioned that you weren’t sleeping enough, so me and Mercie decided to make stuff to help you sleep better!” Annette continued to ramble on. _

_ He turned to Dedue after she mentioned his name. His retainer bowed his head apologetically. “My apologies for overstepping, your Highness. They asked me about what to make for you and your sleeping habits were the first thing I thought about.” _

_ “There’s no need to apologize. I’m grateful that all of you are concerned about me.” Dimitri set the wooden charm down. “Thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart.” _

_ “But Dedue hasn’t even given you your present yet!” Ashe exclaimed. _

_ “That is quite alright. My gift is hardly adequate for his Highness.” _

_ “Let me be the judge of that, Dedue.” Dimitri said as gently as possible. He knew that Dedue often sold himself short when it came to matters concerning his liege.  _

_ “If your Highness wishes.” He sighed. Dedue walked towards the kitchen counters and lifted up a big box. Dedue was a strong man who usually could carry large objects with ease, so to see him struggling like this meant that something incredibly heavy was inside. His hunch was confirmed when Dedue set the box on the table. The dishes and cups shook from the mini earthquake and something metallic rattled inside. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dimitri reached inside and pulled out- _

A bandit’s axe slashed at Dimitri’s black chestpiece. The weapon uselessly scratched against his armor. In retaliation, Dimitri brought his sword down on his foe’s back, severing his spine. The bandit let out a blood curdling howl before crumpling to the ground. One enemy down, two more to go. 

The other vermin trembled at how swiftly their comrade was cut down. Their hesitation allowed Dimitri to slice open another thief. He wished that these bandits were more challenging, like the Imperial soldiers that hounded him. Easy fights like these didn’t get his blood pumping. They didn’t satiate the demands of the dead. They didn’t even damage his jet black chestplate, his last gift from Dedue and the only personal belonging he brought with him from Fhirdiad.

_ “Your Highness, I must apologize again.” Dedue glanced at the floor, refusing to meet Dimitri’s eyes as he tried on the chestplate. “There must have been an error in my measurements during the process, so what I smithed is too big for you.” _

_ “Are you kidding me? This is perfect!” The chestplate hung off his shoulders awkwardly, but that didn’t diminish Dimitri’s smile. “This will fit well when I’m older, I’m sure of it.” _

_ Dedue exhaled in relief. “If you desire it, then you may have it.” _

_ “Of course I want it! Dedue, you need to think more highly of yourself! Not a lot of people your age can craft armor like this!” _

_ “What is it made out of anyway?” Sylvain piped up. “I’ve never seen any armor in that shade of black.” _

_ “That is because I painted it on myself.” Dedue admitted. “The chestplate is made from an ore plentiful in Duscur. It demonstrates remarkable resilience against physical weapons of all types while remaining lightweight. However, the original hue of the metal was a bright blue color, like the summer sky. Hardly a color befitting a general on the battlefield.” _

_ “Ah, yes. That may be a problem.” Dimitri chuckled. “I would stick out like a sore thumb. Moreso, anyway.” _

_ “But if the paint were to be chipped off, then its original color would show through. That is why I suggest repainting as part of its regular maintenance.” _

Dimitri couldn’t follow that bit of advice during his years of exile. Many battles against fierce foes left deep gouges in his armor, including an X shaped scar over his heart. That was obtained from an Imperial knight driven to defeat him at any cost. He would have succeeded if his chestplate hadn’t taken the hit for him. Instead, Dimitri turned the tables and pierced the knight's heart with his lance.

That fight was exhilarating and nothing like this one. As the last bandit choked on his own blood, Dimitri surveyed the room of dead bodies dejectedly. All the vermin had been ousted, but their deaths didn’t satisfy the ghosts. Right now, Dedue was standing in the corner, watching the aftermath of the massacre wordlessly. He never said anything to Dimitri. His retainer just always stared at him with a sorrowful expression, which was harder to deal with than the other ghosts' raucous demands of revenge because it piled regret onto his shoulders with a single glance. And no matter how much Dimitri pleaded, his sadness never went away.

“Do you remember making this, Dedue?” He slapped his gauntlet against his chestplate. The clang of metal echoed throughout the dining hall. “It really is the best birthday present you could have given me. With it, I can destroy all opposition with impunity.”

No response.

“Do not look at me like that.” He growled. “I promise to return the favor soon. I will hang that woman's head from the gates of Enbarr and avenge you and the people of Duscur.”

Nothing. Like always. Dimitri muttered more nonsense as he turned his attention to the last man he killed. The blue fabric he wore was not Mercedes’s blanket, but a grimey flag of the Kingdom with the same pattern. He briefly wondered where he got it from, but decided that its origins didn’t matter.

Still, he swiped the cloak off of the body and wrapped it around his shoulders. It wasn’t nearly as warm as the blanket, but it did stave off the cold a little bit. The next problem was that it wouldn’t stay on his shoulders. He solved that by taking a large fur shawl with hooks off another dead bandit. Dimitri was able to fasten the flag and the shawl together, and then drape the impromptu cape on his back. If he had a mirror of some sort, he supposed that he looked a great deal more intimidating now. Dimitri glanced at Dedue, who glanced back without any hint of emotion.

Even though that fight wasn’t difficult at all, he still felt drained at the end of it. Dimitri sat down next to the bonfire, which had shrunk into a few embers, and munched on the meager rations he stole earlier. Not the grandest of birthday feasts, but it would do for him. He couldn’t taste anything anyway. It mattered not if he chowed down on gourmet meals or scraps of trash. All he needed was fuel for his revenge.

_ “I have never heard of this tradition.” _

_ “That’s because you have never had a birthday cake with candles on it. Or a birthday party for that matter.” _

_ Dimitri was just as flabbergasted as the others when he had to explain the birthday wish-making process to her. Since she grew up as a mercenary, she never had even the most basic of celebrations before. From what he gathered, Jeralt just gave her a new weapon and some kind words for her birthdays past. _

_ “But how does blowing out the candles make the wish? Is it a prayer to the goddess?” _

_ “Perhaps.” Dimitri shrugged. “But really, it’s more of a thing parents tell their children. So it doesn’t have a real explanation behind it.” _

_ “I see.” She hummed thoughtfully. _

_ “And of course, Dimitri still makes a wish when he blows out the candles because he’s still a child at heart.” Sylvain winked. That comment earned him an elbow from Ingrid. _

_ “I-I only do this out of habit Nothing more.” He couldn’t admit now that he still believed in this tradition’s power, at the tender age of 18. _

_ “What are you going to wish for?” She asked before Sylvain could dig himself into a deeper hole. _

_ “I can’t tell you that. If I say it out loud, it won’t come true.” _

_ “Huh.” Fortunately, she didn’t ask why. Dimitri didn’t know what to say to her if she did. What he did know was the wish he would offer up to the heavens for his 18th birthday. _

“I wish for Edelgard’s head.”

His heavy words made the tiny bonfire flicker. Since there was no one here but Dedue, Dimitri didn’t break the ‘no saying your wish out loud’ rule. Yet something in the back of his mind still nagged him. A voice that didn’t belong to any of the ghosts that tormented him.

“What do you  _ really _ wish for?” She whispered into his ears.

He closed his eye. What sort of question was that? Of course he wanted Edelgard dead. She has had her way for far too long, committed far too many atrocities. The only fate she deserved was a bloody and painful one. Then once she was slain, the tortured souls of his parents and his friends would be able to rest in peace. 

“What do  _ you _ want?” She whispered more insistently. Dimitri didn’t like her tone of voice. He almost said that he wanted to shut himself off from her, but she unearthed a deeper yearning that could not be covered up so easily.

“I want…” Dimitri opened his eye and stared into the fire.

“I want to see you again.”

He blew out the flames. 


End file.
